


What's Love Got to Do With It?

by CockAsInTheBird



Series: Of Red, Aching Hearts [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Dry Humping, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Love, M/M, Pining, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Unresolved, Unresolved Feelings, Valentine's Day, or at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:07:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24182599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CockAsInTheBird/pseuds/CockAsInTheBird
Summary: Valentine's have always been one of those useless holidays and celebrations of stupid shit, if you were to ask Billy Hargrove.And it's only worse this year because he's forced to chaperone his sister to this school dance, which means he can't go out and "consolidate" any broken hearts tonight.But then he sees Steve's here too, at the Hawkins Middle school Gym.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: Of Red, Aching Hearts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742470
Comments: 11
Kudos: 126





	What's Love Got to Do With It?

**Author's Note:**

> In this first chapter, you'll find 12 instances of the word "Heart", because what is Valentine's without it
> 
> Also, I know that this song wasn't released till May in 1984, but did *you* know that before I told ya??  
> Bending time is just one of my many abilities!
> 
> Enjoy reading about how Billy just absolutely hates Valentine's day!

Valentine's day is a shitty excuse for girls to act like they're owed the world, and for stores to sell chocolates and hearts at a marked up price.

 _But_.

It's also the one day where it is oh so easy to hook up with any melancholic chick, to soothe her broken heart when she didn't get asked out like all of her friends, and _really_ needs a shoulder to cry on, _strong arms to hold her_.

Which is, of course, also dangerous grounds to walk on, because next thing you know, she thinks it's _love_. And what's love got to do with it? It would be nothing more than a quick dip in the sheets, or in the back of his camaro. It's only physical, but apparently _bitches_ never understands that.

Unfortunately, this year is different. February 14th, 1984, in shitty little Hawkins, Indiana.

Billy finds himself in a dimly lit gymnasium, the floor littered with preadolescent kids writhing and “dancing” to some horrible local band that makes his ears ache. The air is heavy with perfumes and colognes these kids have borrowed from their parents, whom all stand in a handful by the bleachers, smiling and gossiping.

Of course neither Neil nor Susan stands with them all.

No, Billy is there instead, forced to chaperon his little “sister” so that their parents could do whatever the fuck they wanted to tonight, not a care if Billy had any plans of his own.

 _Which he didn't, but still_.

“You're taking your little sister to the dance, and if I found out any boy as much as laid a hand on her-” Neil's anger echoes in his mind, but washes away with the swig of his spiked punch.

Max is smiling, glowing with joy out there on the dance floor with her friends, her gorgeous lilac dress shiny under the colored lights, standing awfully close to one Lucas Sinclair. But Billy just looks away at that. If he doesn't see it, it didn't happen.

He catches how a troupe of lonely wives all giggle with their plastic cups near their painted lips, eyes pinned to him where he sits leaned back, legs spread out and shirt buttoned all the way up to appear “proper”.

Can't help but grin at the attention, winks at them all, no one in particular. Knows he looks like goddamn Adonis, even in such a limited and cheesy lighting, but their longing gaze isn't what he's searching for. No, he wants those big doe eyes, drowned in honey. _Knows_ they're here somewhere, because where else would he be on a night like this.

_Steve fucking Harrington_ , dancing like an utter fool, standing taller than the rest of the suckers out there, together with Dustin and whoever else, Billy doesn't care to remember their names.

Just watches Steve, swaying his shoulders and hips, hair bouncing along. Smiling, laughing, happy. Turns around in that pale blue suit, white shirt buttoned all the way up to where a matching bow tie holds it all together, tight around his throat.

Billy shifts uncomfortably, restless, in his seat as he notices that _he can't look away_.

“-opposites attract, it's physical. Only logical. You must try to ignore that it means more than that,” the front singer mouths into the microphone, singing out the lyrics to such a trite song.

 _Tina Turner don't know shit_ , Billy thinks and scowls, as if the song is aimed at him and how he's staring. Takes another gulp of his cup.

“ _Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken.”_

 _Shut up_.

“ _It may seem to you that I'm acting confused when you're close to me-”_

He shoots upright, bottoms out his drink, crumbles it easily with one fist and throws it aside. Feels the beat of the song tremble across the floor, through the tough leather of his boots, up all the way to jostle his heart.

It beats faster as he pushes his way through dweebs and nerds, hands deep in his pockets as he moves toward a side door of the hall, carving a path between the numerous upbeat juveniles. Eyes still pinned at the exact same spot where Steve's eyes crinkle.

And then he looks at him- _Steve looks at Billy_ , who's suddenly so close with shoulders broad and rudely shoving at everyone. His grin that of a devil as he shoves at Steve, _actively_ going out of his way just to bump shoulders together, eyes just as sinister as the curl of his lips.

“ _-there's a name for it. There's a phrase that fits. But whatever the reason you do it for me.”_

Steve stops smiling, mouth slightly ajar and eyes _curious_ at the way Billy stares right back. And he keeps looking; even turns around so that he can see where Billy goes to open the door and slip out into the moons embrace.

Suddenly his bow tie sits a bit too tightly, the heat here overbearing and what little rhythm he has falters. He didn't know Billy was here.

“ _What's love got to do, got to do with it-”_

The cold February air a blissful sensation compared to the stuffy atmosphere inside the gymnasium. The chill bites gently at Billy's heated skin, further and further down as he unbuttons his shirt to expose his burning chest to the late winter night.

He's quick to flick on his lighter, and feels relief from the way the smoke of his Marlboro helps settle the urgent beating of his lonesome heart.

“ _What's love but a second hand emotion-”_

The song barely even there anymore as the door closes with a _click_ , yet there's still an audible crunch of light snow being stepped on, when someone stops and leans against the red brick. A pale blue shoulder inches away from one clad in a black leather jacket.

Billy exhales a plume of smoke, head slumped against the wall with eyes to the sky, not giving any sign that he's paying attention to the other guy next to him.

“Come out here to bum a smoke, Harrington?” He takes another deep drag.

“Trying to quit, actually,” Steve speaks quietly, as if someone from inside could hear them. He looks down at where his nice dress shoes shine compared to the scuffed leather of Billy's boots.

“Is that so?” Billy turns to look at him, and his heart beats faster when the eyes come up to look back.

Pulls his lips together to form a tight o as he blows out, sending the white cloud to flurry around Steve's face.

Watches _intently_ how those lips separate, how they inhale the smoke, how his chest rises with the motion of breathing in Billy's air. Hears a little, satisfied _sigh_ escape there, as Steve exhales again.

And Billy grins, just a slight turn of his mouth as he examines the way that pretty boy licks his lips, _asking for more, maybe_.

So he brings the cherry red back, sucks on the cigarette as deeply as he can. Notices how Steve inches closer till their arms just graze together, heads turned completely towards one another, those lovely brown eyes keep staring expectantly at Billy's lips.

Stares down at Steve's lips, too, as he lets out that coveted smog which only travels a short distance, before it all vanishes into an open mouth, a place where Billy is nearly jealous that he's not occupying right now. Looks up to see that Steve has closed his eyes as he savors the taste and holds his breath.

He reaches into one of his pockets and pulls out a hip flask. “Thirsty?” his voice a low rumble.

Steve gets pulled back to reality from _wherever his mind might have wandered_ , and looks at the shiny metal.

“What is it?” he sounds all foggy and clears his throat.

“Whiskey.” Billy grins _knowingly_ at the flush that blooms across Steve's pale cheeks. Would bet that he knows exactly what _Stevie_ was thinking about.

About the showers in the boys locker room, months ago when they were the last two standing there...

“Why am I not surprised you brought alcohol?” Steve laughs with a smile and grabs a hold of the flask.

“Why am I not surprised to see you here tonight?” Billy stares at how those lips close around the flask, how his Adam's apple bobs when he drinks, and grins at the grimace that's forced out by the strong and sharp alcohol.

“Hey, I'm getting paid pretty well for this; babysitting's a good job.” He contemplates taking another swig, but feels the whiskey near immediately push out the cold.

“So you didn't dress up all nice for me then?” Billy flashes a toothy grin and looks Steve up and down.

And he notices the way those clear blue eyes just can't leave him alone. “You want me to say yes?”

Billy simply licks his lips before closing them around the last bit of his cigarette. “ _Maybe_ ,” he breathes out white and tosses the butt into the night.

“And what are you doing here?” Steve stares at how that tongue dances from one corner of a mouth to another. Loosens his bow tie a bit.

“What, thinking I can't get a date?” It was intended to sound playful, but something sour twists in his words. “Neil and his wife decided that I should play babysitter too.”

“How you liking it so far?” And Steve looks at Billy with low lids and a crooked smile, almost _bashful_.

Billy stares at that smile, _longingly_ , feels his charming grin fall to a hopeful parting of the lips, when he whispers, “Can't complain.”

And his hand, hanging down by his side next to Steve, moves in search of warm skin to satiate the cravings of a neglected heart. Hears the lyrics in his head-

“ _You must understand though the touch of your hand makes my pulse react, that it's only the thrill of boy meeting girl.”_

-even though the band must have moved on to a different song by now.

And the way Steve doesn't pull away from the touch, but rather moves _into it_ sends a jolt of electricity to Billy's heart; like what he imagines the sensation of defibrillators reviving you must be like. He has to look away in case it shows on his face, how _elated_ he feels from this slight bit of attention.

How easy it is to break him.

“ _-I've been thinking about my own protection; it scares me to feel this way.”_

“Hey,” Steve breathes, voice so near and gentle.

Billy turns his head back to find the other just a hairs width away. Dark eyes gazing into the still waters of a frozen lake, wanting to crack that ice that covers Billy's heart.

He closes his eyes as Steve leans in, lips warm and soft and _needed_ presses against his own. And he doesn't dare move, lest this caress breaks apart, lets Steve push deeper. Lets him grab his hand and interlace their fingers. Billy feels himself melting into the kiss.

And there's a pang in his heart when it has to stop. Steve pulls away, fingers still tightly knit, and he licks his lips to taste what Billy's touch left behind there on pink skin; enviable cigarettes and spiked punch.

But he doesn't let the feeling of _longing_ settle into the distance between them. Kicks off the wall and moves to stand in front of Billy, his legs parted to place his feet against heavy boots. Slips the flask back into the pocket it belongs in, so that he can place his palms against the bricks above leather clad shoulders.

Gingerly he nuzzles their noses together, eyes down at those lips he wants to feel again. “Hi,” he whispers, and Billy feels his breath tickle across his mustache.

“Hi,” he murmurs back and _waits patiently_.

Can't help the light _hum of a moan_ that escapes when they meet again. Lips so comfortable with the way they effortlessly move together. He runs his hands up Steve's back, underneath the blue blazer, to pull him _closer, bodies flush, so warm in an affectionate embrace._

“I like your suit, pretty boy,” he says, all dazed and soft between their kisses.

“Thanks.” Steve smiles. “The color is... _inspired_.” He gazes into eyes of the same hue, brushes a warm and _blushing_ cheek with his fingers.

“ _Fuck, Steve_ ,” Billy's words a whisper from his desirous heart, moved beyond words by such simple gestures that Steve constantly offers up.

To make Billy know he's thinking about him. Wears blue shirts, parks right next to the camaro, bumps shoulders in the halls, stares a bit longer when their eyes meet.

Steve licks at Billy's lips, the request for entrance fervently approved, and he moans at the slick reunion of tongues, tastes everything that he is and swallows the groans and harsh breaths as if he's starving. Moves his hips to press against jeans, the heat there so distant with layers a plenty.

Runs his hand down from the cheek, his index finger drawing a delicate line down a twitching throat till it's stopped by buttons. And he can't help but smile at how there's only a few buttons open.

“What?” Billy smiles right back against lips.

“Nothing, just... so weird to see you using so many buttons,” he laughs.

“Oh yeah?” Feels a button pop free. “Good weird or bad weird?”

Another. “Bad.” And another. “I don't like it.”

With only one hand, Steve manages to open the shirt more than halfway down. Slips that same cold palm underneath the fabric, and Billy pulls his face away to hiss and wince at the chill as fingers splay out across his ribs. A thumb moves up to press against a hard nipple, and from the _delicious reaction_ keeps rubbing there.

“ _Ah-_ ” Billy gasps and quickly darts back to kiss those cocky lips pulled into such a self-satisfied smirk.

He feels how Steve moves his hips, grooves along with the faint rhythm of what's behind this tall wall. Grinds his hardening dick against his own slight erection. Notices the stutter that trembles through Steve's motion whenever Billy moans.

Teasingly so, he whispers out, “ _Stevie_ ,” and grabs him by the hips.

“ _Ah, Billy, I'm-_ ” Steve bites down on his lip to strangle a lascivious little sound.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Billy grins wide and looks down where he can just barely see that gorgeous bulge.

Then he lifts up his leg; puts his foot against the wall so that his bent leg can slot in between Steve's thighs, _perfectly pushing up against where he's so needy._

“ _Fuh-ck,_ ” Steve breathes out and looks down to where Billy's offering him friction.

Feels those firm hands on his hips guiding him _back and forth, up and down the strong thigh_. And he won't resist it, _grinds_ against the denim, feels sparks shoot through his _greedy, long cock_.

“You're so fucking gorgeous, _Stevie_ ,” Billy murmurs, lips next to an ear as Steve presses his forehead to the crook of Billy's neck.

They both stare down at where Steve's humping so enthusiastically, Billy's strong fingers pulled through the belt loops of those blue dress pants to urge him on, to have a better grip on his hips.

“ _Billy-_ ”

He chuckles deep and rough in response to how Steve's gasping around his name. Tilts his head aside as Steve nudges him away to get access to his neck; kisses, sucks, pants against the tan skin there. He bites down on his lower lip.

Steve bucks his hips faster, feels his briefs stick to his skin with pre cum, knows that “ _fuck,_ ” if he keeps moving like this, he'll stain his nice suit, but he doesn't hold the power over himself to stop or to say “no” when his dick _weeps yes_.

“Love listening to you moan and whimper like this, _baby_ , it's _so fucking hot_.” Billy nibbles at the shell of Steve's ear.

“ _Billy- ah Billy, I'm so- so close._ ” The lush heat shifting at the base of his throbbing erection so oppressive, trapped in cotton briefs and cotton pants, feels it spread to where sweat starts running down his back.

“ _I know_ ,” Billy growls.

“ _Fuck, ah-_ ”

His leg is starting to cramp up a bit, and his own _steely cock_ is feeling mighty neglected right now, but it's all oh so worth it to get to see Steve lose himself like this, grinding against his thigh- _dry humping_ ecstatically as he chases his nearing orgasm. The _goddamn pornographic_ sounds that slips from those open wide lips enough to satiate Billy for months to come. Then he feels a hand pull at his shirt.

“ _I'm- I'm gonna- ah shit-_ ” His thighs tremble in their locked grip around Billy's leg as he _cums, chokes back a moan_ that could wake the entire town, _as he feels his dick release all the heat in one movement_ , presses down _hard_ against the leg holding him up as he rides the euphoria to shore.

Hips twitch with the last bit of energy that remains, then he slumps against Billy.

Who keeps his leg there so that Steve doesn't fall. He moves his hands away from the hips and up his sweaty back, draws circles and swirls into the wet shirt.

It takes Steve a bit to say anything, simply hums pleasantly, then, “That's nice.”

Billy smiles. Not a salacious grin or naughty smirk, but an honest to God sweet and loving smile of satisfaction, and he's not even the one that just came in his pants. No he's still kinda in pain where his jeans sit too tight.

“How you feeling?”

Steve laughs, the huff a gentle breeze across Billy's collarbone. “I'm... I'm feeling great! Just fantastic, fuck!”

He manages to get up and stand on his own legs, allowing for Billy to _finally_ stretch out his sore knee. Then leans in for a kiss; a depleted and exhausted movement that just begs to lie down and cuddle for a bit.

“Hmm what about you?” his voice rough and fucked out, fingers playing with the scrunched up shirt.

“I'm good baby,” Billy says promptly so that he doesn't have to stay away from those lips too long.

Groans delicately as their tongues dance to their own rhythm of staggered breathing and contented moans. Pays barely any attention to where Steve's hand is traveling down, skims across the shirt and lands on that _girthy erection that has set up tent_. _Massages it_ , _rubs the base of his palm against the head of Billy's cock, inspiring moans to fall out_.

But a strong hand pulls at his wrist. “Steve, stop,” Billy grumbles, breathlessly so.

“Thought you said you were good.” Steve grins and licks across Billy's spread lips, teasing by not diving in. “Lemme take care of you.”

Billy's hold on Steve's wrist remains consistent and keeps the writhing hand at a good distance. He grins mischievously, as if he knows some naughty little secret, and licks his lips as he contemplates upon it.

“ _Later, pretty boy_ ,” is all he says about it, although from the glint in those honeyed eyes and slight smile that perks up, he might not have to say any more.

Except for...

“Now, how are you going to deal with _that?_ ”

And points to the very obvious, very dark, slightly glistening, wet spot by the hip on those pale blue pants.

“ _Shit,_ ” Steve complains as he looks at it. “I was... kinda hoping that I could, maybe, will it away? By like not thinking about it?”

Billy throws his head back a bit as he laughs at the slight distress to Steve's voice. “Good luck with... _whatever_ you come up with to fix _that_.”

“Any ideas?”

He doesn't answer, simply steps away from where he was pressed against the brick wall, leans against it again next to Steve, and lights another smoke.

Steve's eyes are wide with bewilderment and gestures expectantly with his hand. “Billy?”

Billy doesn't answer, just smirks maliciously around the butt of a Marlboro red.

“Are you...” A smile creeps up on Steve's face. “Are you not gonna answer me?”

Billy doesn't answer, but he does shrug his shoulders and blows out a white plume.

“So you're not gonna help me regain some semblance of dignity?” Despite his afflicted tone, Steve still smiles and even chuckles a bit.

Billy opens his mouth and... closes it again around his cigarette to take another drag.

“You're an asshole, Hargrove,” Steve laughs and places his hands on his hips, but _yanks_ the right one away when it touches something wet- _oh, yeah, fuck_.

**Author's Note:**

> I got really carried away with some parts; got maybe a tad bit too poetic with the phrasing, but I got the idea for this entire story while listening to "Movement" by Hozier (yeah I'm gay sue me), and I just cannot get out the imagery of Steve, dancing in slow-motion all smiles and hair jumping, dressed in a blue suit while Billy just stares *adoringly*...


End file.
